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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631436">give up your choice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows'>ohallows</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>give up control [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bad end, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Infection, based on tgwdlm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:15:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,012</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27631436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's like the world is ending.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>zolf/cel but only if you squint</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>give up control [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1525868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>give up your choice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>yes. yes i k ow this has been a long time coming. i know. i’m sorry cel i couldn’t do it to u but now i can. also yes it’s from zolf’s perspective. sorry. it worked better. this is uhhhh. very different than the other infection fics but i couldn’t find a better way to do cel being infected and then. </p><p>this is shamelessly ripped from the ending of the guy who didn’t like musicals except with a little twist and keeping it (mostly) canon compliant and im absolutely only writing it bc i proposed this idea AND THEN KIM CORALREEFSKIM DREW IT and it hurt me and now i’m here</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It’s like the world is ending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Screams and shouts echo off of the buildings that surround them. Magic explodes in bright colours and bangs, sending plaster raining down as buildings take the brunt of the attacks. The entire city is on fire, metaphorically if not literally; portions of London have collapsed into the sewers below, revealing blue-veined, grimy faces that wince at the first glimpse of sunlight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dragonfire rains down from the heavens, some on their side, some not, and blood stains the pavement, stretching out in all directions as more and more fall. The Cult of Mars is ruthless, cutting a path through the city, not caring if the people they strike down can be cured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf and Cel run through the streets of London, feet pounding against the pavement as they desperately try to avoid the worst of it. It’s their fault that everything had to come this head anyway, and there’s not enough time for them to dawdle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the final stand; they have the kill switch - well, Cel has the kill switch, having made it after recovering the plans - and all they need to do is find the core of the spell that’s slowly turning everyone into blue-veined monsters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most of the world has been lost by now; all of the survivors - cults, Harlequins, Meritocratic soldiers, and the unaffiliated alike - have congregated for this final push. The infection started in London, and that’s where it’s going to fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf grits his teeth, and keeps running. At his side, Cel is breathing heavily, but they’re moving slower to keep pace with him. They duck down an alleyway, edging their way though, and Zolf closes his eyes for a moment. It’s so familiar, </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>familiar, it could just as easily be the alleyway that he first met Sasha in, and he - he can’t think about that now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’ve lost… so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wilde, Barnes, Carter… gone. Turned long ago, when the party was out on a mission to gather information. There’s nothing worse than coming back and being ambushed, and Zolf, Cel, Hamid, and Azu had all needed to go on the run. They’d been compromised, their entire </span>
  <em>
    <span>operation</span>
  </em>
  <span> had been compromised, because this </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> virus had to be one that relied on a hivemind. A gestalt entity that they could barely fight against, that knew their every single move because it had all of their friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hamid and Azu had been next. Zolf doesn’t know where they lost them, when it happened, but when he woke up to Hamid’s hands around his throat, blue veins creeping across his arms, he’d known it was too late. They’d gotten taken, somehow, at the same time, Hamid and Azu. It… hadn’t been a fight Zolf had been proud of. He - listen, he may be a grumpy arse most of the time, but he doesn’t actually like fighting his friends, and he still feels bad about the punch he’d thrown Azu. Until she’d clocked him one so hard that he’d seen stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d only barely escaped from her, in the end. Hamid had been easy enough, once Zolf had managed to get him tied down, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>Azu?</span>
  </em>
  <span> They were lucky to be alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf and Cel haven’t looked back since they’d started running, either way. Azu and Hamid are still out there, somewhere. They hadn’t been able to - they hadn’t saved them. This - getting to the centre, breaking the spell to bits, it’s the only thing that even has a hope of bringing them back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door next to them blows out, woodchips shattering everywhere. Some of it cuts across Zolf’s face, sharp edges made sharper from the force. Zolf grabs Cel and tugs them back. He sends a wave of energy into the room, hand outstretched, and the infected person falls, leaving their path through clear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go,” he mutters, and then they’re off again at a sharp nod from Cel. They have to be almost there; they’ve been running through the city for so long, it feels interminable. They just need to get to the burned cellar at Edison’s; it’s where everything started, and it’s the only place where they can end it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They round a corner, and Zolf starts to recognise the shops that dot the street; Gusset’s Antiques is completely blown out, sign having fallen to the ground below among a pile of scattered glass shards. He swallows heavily, but doesn’t linger. If his memory is correct, these years later, that means the remains of Edison’s house should be just around the corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stumbles, exhausted, and Cel’s footsteps screech to a halt before they return to Zolf’s side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, come on,” Cel says, holding onto his arm urgently. “Zolf, please, we can’t - you’re okay, right? We - we can slow down if we need, but we need to - we have to keep moving. It’s - we’re almost there, right? We -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf holds a hand up, cutting them off. “I’m fine,” he bites out, and then sets off at a run again. His side is in stitches of pain, but he knows, more than most, how important this is. He’s the one who lived through the whole sorry story, and he needs to be there when it ends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t take long, after that. They make it to the charred house; it had been in bad shape from the explosion two years ago, but it’s even worse now. It’s completely in disarray. The ceiling has collapsed in on itself, with the stained glass windows never having been repeated. Ivy and moss has grown up along the side, and the house has been left open to the elements. None of the upper floors remain, and there’s musty old furniture laying overturned on the floor along with massive chunks of concrete. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf swallows, and then leads Cel inside. It’s easy enough to find the dining room, and even easier to find the massive hole that’s been blasted in the floor. Cel and him work together to move the large piece of plaster that’s fallen atop it, and then they’re staring down into darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After you,” Zolf says, gesturing down into the tunnel. Cel hops in without hesitating, rappelling down quickly. He follows them before too long has passed, activating his boots, and they both land on the damp floor together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A light is coming through at the end of the tunnel, and they exchange a quick look before heading toward it, as quick as they can. The entrance is blocked by a heavy door; the light had been shining in through the window of the door. There’s a large padlock on the front, and Zolf swears while Cel pulls out their set of lockpicks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be as quick as I can,” they say, voice tight, and Zolf nods. “Stand watch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns, staring out at the dark tunnel. His hands grip his glaive tightly, and he’s already on his guard from the mad dash through the city. Cel gets to work on the lock behind him, muttering under their breath as they try to figure out the correct motions. A minute passes, and then another, and Zolf’s anxiety just continues to key up the longer it goes without making progress. He doesn’t like being down here. Something just feels… wrong, about all of it. And the second the infection manages to capture one of them, once any of them join with the hivemind, they’ll know what Cel and Zolf are planning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As though prompted by the thought, Zolf hears… something. It’s quiet at first, just a light scraping against concrete, but then the sound </span>
  <em>
    <span>resolves</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he realises it’s footsteps; distant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> distant footsteps, and they’re moving much more quickly than Zolf is really comfortable with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something is moving down the tunnel toward them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you at, Cel,” he growls, spreading his feet as he braces against whatever onslaught is coming at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not - not far enough,” Cel says, and the panic is starting to rise at their tone as well. “I don’t there’s just a few more left, but I can’t figure this </span>
  <em>
    <span>out </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it’s stopping me from doing the rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fall silent as they go back to working, and Zolf goes back to watching the tunnel. Whatever it is is getting closer, and now that it’s closer, he’s realising that there are multiple </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatevers</span>
  </em>
  <span> out there, not just a few. Easily enough to overwhelm him and Cel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel…” he says again, and Cel sighs in frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying!” they say, terse, and Zolf chews on his lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, we don’t have time,” he snarls, making the decision for both of them. “Get out of the way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cel immediately takes a step back, and Zolf raises his glaive, letting fire light the tip, as he jabs it down toward the padlock. The sound of metal on metal rings out through the tunnel, echoing off of the stone. The padlock shatters and falls to the ground, and Zolf rips the door open before unceremoniously shoving Cel through the gap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s just able to see what’s coming at him before he follows them through the door; it’s an entire group of infected, at least 15 of them, and Zolf knows that he and Cel can’t find that many. Not even with an upper hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” he mutters. “Shit, shit, shit. Okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Okay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the epicentre,” Cel says, clearly not listening to him, and steps forward while Zolf slams the door behind himself. He takes a few deep breaths, hand clutching at his chest, and then he leans against the door, glaive gripped tightly in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t going to hold,” he warns them, and Cel nods absently, gaze locked on the strange pillar sitting in the middle of the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They move closer toward it, hand outstretched, and Zolf only manages to get a glimpse of a weird, sparking energy comes off of the thing. His eyes narrow, focusing, and then he realises what it is just as Cel’s fingertips brush against it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait </span>
  </em>
  <span>-!” Zolf shouts, but he’s cut off as a wave of energy </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulses</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the pillar in the center of the room, knocking him down. The door bursts open at the same time, and a group of infected barrel into the room, laughing maniacally as they rush toward the two of them. They struggle against the energy as well, some being knocked back while others are pushing against it, trying to get to Cel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zolf, I know what to do!” Cel calls back, pulling the kill switch - the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bomb </span>
  </em>
  <span>- out of their coat with one hand as they cling to the pillar. “I can do this!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows what they mean without having to ask, and his heart cracks as he stares at them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zolf begs, but the energy coming from the pillar keeps him in place even as he beats against it, trying to break through. “It doesn’t have to be you, it </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>be you, please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The infected swarm Cel on all sides, trying</span>
</p><p>
  <span>to get closer against the waves, but they’re being knocked back just as much as Zolf is. He drives his glaive into the ground, unable to do anything but hold on as the energy gets even stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, Zolf, it’s okay,” Cel says, and their voice is strained,</span>
  <em>
    <span> broken</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and, despite it all, a smile pulls at their lips while they stare at Zolf. “It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I can do this. I can save everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The makeshift bomb in their hand slips, chemicals a bright green as they dance inside the flask. It’s like a horror movie, moving in slow motion, and Zolf can’t do anything but watch in terror as it smashes against the ground. The last thing he sees is Cel’s smiling face, tears cascading down their cheeks as they stare at him and mouth an apology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blast is contained; there’s a moment of stillness as all of the energy in the room evaporates, and Zolf throws himself behind a metal sheet and covers his head with his arms. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>loud, </span>
  </em>
  <span>an explosion that racks the foundations of the cellar they’re stood in. Concrete and plaster rain down from the ceiling, and a piece of the structure collapses only a few feet from Zolf as he tries to curl up into as small a target as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A piece of concrete above him vibrates and falls, crashing down by his feet, and Zolf just lays there on the ground, begging and praying to a god he no longer believes in to get through this alive. The cellar shakes around him as the blast ends, resettling into place. More pieces fall from above, sunlight streaming in through holes in the dirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When everything has stopped rumbling, Zolf chances a glance around the room. His ears are ringing, but he can’t hear anything other than that. He stands on unsteady feet, grabbing at his head as vertigo bowls into him, causing him to inelegantly crash into the metal wall he’d cowered against. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he mutters, under his breath, and then his head snaps up as he looks around. “Cel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cel!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice echoes off of the collapsed support beams and plaster that litters the floor. The pillar in the center of the room is destroyed, laying in scattered pieces around the room. The infected are gone too, either having run off without Zolf noticing, or having been buried completely by the caved-in ceiling. He stumbles toward where the pillar sat, falling to his knees atop the rubble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he says, desperately digging through the plaster and the stone and the dirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know how long he’s there; long enough for his fingers to ache and start to bleed as he cuts himself on one too many sharp pieces of rock. Eventually, his vision goes black as the adrenaline fades, and before he knows it, he passes out atop the pile, hands still buried in the rubble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wakes, an indeterminate amount of time later, and blinks around at his surroundings. He’s laying in a bed, a hard one, and something bright is shining into his face. There’s a strange staleness to the air, and Zolf pushes himself up, looking around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s the medical tent; there are a few people asleep on other cots, and one of the Mars cultists is tending to his wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re up,” they say, clipped and short. He never </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten along with any of the Mars bunch, and this seems like it will still be the case. “Didn’t die, I see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you a smart one,” Zolf says, and lets himself fall back onto the pillows. He winces as the cultist presses a little too hard on his wound before whispering a </span>
  <em>
    <span>clearly</span>
  </em>
  <span> insincere apology. “Are you done yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Almost,” they say, finishing up with the bandages and starting on another set. “Why? Got somewhere to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf bites his lip. “I want to leave. So.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. Not happening,” the cultist says. “Not with the injuries you’ve got. Wouldn’t last a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” Zolf says, and the cultist gives him a look. “You can’t keep me here forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let me </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two days,” they say, a bargain if Zolf has ever heard one, and he sighs, staring up at the ceiling. He can’t go anywhere without his prosthetics, and he doesn’t know where those are now, so he just shuts up and decides to wait, nodding silently at the cultist as they continue to help him dress his wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not like there’s anyone he needs to get to urgently, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two days passes quickly enough. Zolf sleeps through most of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m leaving,” he says, two days later, when all of his wounds are healed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Mars cultist shrugs. “I can’t stop you. We’ll get someone to escort you to the edge of the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Zolf agrees. “Get me my prosthetics.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two pairs of prosthetics, a packed bag, and one escort later has Zolf standing on the outskirts of London, staring over the banks of the Thames as he tries to decide where he can even go next. Everything’s been lost to him. No one knows where the infected went, if they’re still alive, if they were eaten by the spell, if they’ve all woken up somewhere, confused and guilt-stricken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf doesn’t really care where he goes, honestly. He did the job he had to do, and it’s someone else’s turn to do the clean up. He’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>done. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand lands on his shoulder before he can take a step, and he turns around reluctantly to face the escort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You aren’t going alone,” the cultist says, holding up a hand as Zolf starts to argue. “This isn’t up for debate. Everyone who’s deciding to travel right now is going in pairs, until we can figure out what the damage is and if there’s anyone left out there who can start this whole thing up again. It’s not safe, to go alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf doesn’t really care about being safe, anymore, but he’s willing to play ball if it means he gets out of this damned city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah. Here they come now,” the cultist says, a note of approval in their voice, and Zolf hoists his bag higher on his shoulders as he waits, impatient. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hears them before he sees them, footsteps moving slowly across the ground, stumbling over the rubble. A hand comes around a corner, and then someone appears, and the shock of hair, sticking straight up, is obvious. Zolf’s bag falls to the ground at his feet, spilling rations over the pavement, and he feels like a marionette whose strings had been cut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel?” Zolf asks, stumbling forward on battered legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t believe it’s them, that they didn’t die in the explosion, that they somehow were able to save the whole world and still survive. They have soot coating their face, and their coat is tattered and ruined, and they’ve definitely seen better days in general, but Zolf doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care </span>
  </em>
  <span>about that as he dashes at them, moving as fast as his legs can take him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crashes into them, wrapping his arms around their waist as he buries his head into their abdomen. His hands fist into the back of their jacket as he feels himself start to break, trembling a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cel,” he says again, breathing shallowly as tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “I - I thought -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cel doesn’t say anything, just kneels down in front of him and readjusts Zolf’s grip so that they’re on more or less even footing. Their arms come up around his back, and their hands press against his spine. He lets them move, and then his forehead falls forward against their shoulder as he tries to stop trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never expected to see them again, not after the explosion. He screws his eyes shut, and Cel’s hands travel up until one is cupping the back of his head, pulling Zolf tighter into them. It feels safe, and Zolf finally starts to let himself relax, doesn’t hold himself as tight as a bowstring. Cel shifts, a bit, turning their head until their forehead is pressed against his temple, and he can feel their breath against his cheek, slow and steady. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Zolf, I’m sorry,” they whisper, lips brushing against his ear, and Zolf’s hands fall slack where they’d been gripping the rough fabric of the coat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What - sorry? There’s nothing to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry </span>
  </em>
  <span>for, you -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>lost</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf’s blood turns to ice in his veins at Cel’s voice. His hands fall back to his sides, and his entire body begins to shake as he stumbles away from Cel, staring up at them as pure, unchecked fear settles into his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their face is positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>gleeful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, smile spreading like a crack across their face. Blue veins creep up their neck, shining veins that glint in the light. Their eyes have gone a bright shade of blue, so different from the dark green he’s used to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not Cel,” he realises, and the hope is choked out of him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ripped</span>
  </em>
  <span> out as he stares up at them. The infection - but, how, they - Cel nearly died in the explosion, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>have, Zolf </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw </span>
  </em>
  <span>the bomb go off, they couldn’t - how did this - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to warn </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone, </span>
  </em>
  <span>needs to figure out what went wrong, how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fix this </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he - he can’t lose everyone a second time. There’s - he doesn’t know where to </span>
  <em>
    <span>go, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and glances around desperately while Cel just keeps smiling at him, too wide for it to be anything but unsettling, and the veins are still creeping along their skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Cel,” they say, sounding hurt. “Or, should I say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf tries to make a run for it, going back to the camp so that he can warn the cult, so that they can figure out a new plan. He stumbles over the rocks, and he doesn’t get far before he feels Cel’s hands on his arms. They grab him and pull him back in, pressing up against his back as their arms wrap around his chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, there’s no need for that,” they say in a little singsong, palms open and fingers spreading out where their hands press against his chest, and then they drag him back. Their voice is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong; </span>
  </em>
  <span>there’s a strange quality to it, like too many people are trying to speak out of one mouth, and it echoes around them as though it’s coming from everywhere at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Zolf snarls, struggling to break their grip, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gods, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he wishes he had his glaive with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cel - no, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>Cel, it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>them - doesn’t even seem to notice him struggling, humming under their breath as they sway back and forth with him in their arms. They spin him in a stilted little dance, and Zolf manages to finally break their grip, stumbling back over the rocks as he tries to put some distance between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh, high and crystal clear, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>distorted, </span>
  </em>
  <span>different tones all coming in one discordant melody, and Zolf flinches back away from it as though the sound itself can hurt him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t get far,” they say, and tilt their head as they look at him. “It’s over, Zolf. Just give in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you,” Zolf spits, not taking his eyes off of Cel as he keeps moving away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backs up into someone, and turns in shock, staring up at Azu, who’s looking down at him and smiling. The smile looks - it looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>empty, </span>
  </em>
  <span>as though there’s nothing behind those eyes. Hamid appears from the shadows next, closely followed by Wilde, Carter, and Barnes, all with the same eerie smile on their face as blue veins spread up their face, eyes gone a bright shade of aqua from the infection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Join us,” Hamid says, voice sickly sweet, and Azu holds a hand out to him, her smile more terrifying than encouraging.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know you missed us, Zolf,” Barnes says, coming to stand at her side, and Zolf scrambles backward only to find that Carter and Wilde are there, staring down at him. He’s surrounded on all sides, with no chance of escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a sound from down the street, and Zolf turns to see someone there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help!” he begs, desperately staring at the cult of Mars member who appears around a corner. They take in the situation, and then pull their hood back, and the veins have spread across them as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf thinks back, and realises that none of the people he saw in the medical tent had their faces exposed. There were either bandages covering them, or their hoods were up, and Zolf - he hadn’t thought anything of it at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but now it just - it was just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>game </span>
  </em>
  <span>to them. To see how far they could stretch it. Gods, and he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>fell </span>
  </em>
  <span>for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s really no escape for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zolf sits there and bows his head, and the infected advance.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(ok so actually me and noot cooked up another au for infected cel in which cel beastshapes and barnes has to talk them down and its very soft and sad BUT i didnt write that. i wrote this. so.)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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